


I'M NOT JUST HAPPY TO SEE YOU

by spicyshimmy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-29
Updated: 2012-06-29
Packaged: 2017-11-08 19:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicyshimmy/pseuds/spicyshimmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Spader7's art on tumblr; it got too long and had to go here. Stiles decides to do some research on how to train your werewolf. No big deal. <i>Maybe-- Okay, maybe Scott was right about one thing, which was that Stiles had to spend less time focusing on Derek's intense eyes and more time focusing on how not to get his throat torn out, or his best friend killed by people who hunted werewolves for fun, or what Derek looked like without a shirt on, or how Stiles was failing a bunch of classes but he totally had a good reason for it this time but he totally couldn't tell anyone.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	I'M NOT JUST HAPPY TO SEE YOU

There had to be a way to make Derek less... Less  _snarly._  Less with the whole crazy eye, bared teeth, angry-guard-dog-except-bigger-and-badder-and-also-person-shaped-some-of-the-time  _thing_  that was kind of what worked for him, but not so much for  _other people._

'His eyes are just-- they're just so intense,' Stiles explained to Scott, who gave him some pretty intense eyes for pointing it out. 'No, I'm serious, it's-- it's this voodoo werewolf hex glare he has going on. And he doesn't even have to, he just does it because he  _can._ '

Maybe-- Okay, _maybe_ Scott was right about one thing, which was that Stiles had to spend less time focusing on Derek's intense eyes and more time focusing on how not to get his throat torn out, or his best friend killed by people who hunted werewolves for fun, or what Derek looked like without a shirt on, or how Stiles was failing a bunch of classes but he totally had a good reason for it this time but he  _totally couldn't tell anyone._

High school _was_ hard. Just not for any of the reasons people said it was. 

And Stiles  _did_ do research. ...Just not for any of the things he had assignments due on.

Googling _how to train your wolf_ turned up nothing actually useful--thanks, Google--although it did ask him if he meant  _how to train your_ _dragon_ which, hopefully, he'd never have to go through. Because wolves were bad enough. Dragons were bigger, and they could breathe fire, and he spent that whole night wide awake really,  _really_ hoping they weren't real things, too _._

_What was the world coming to?_

But there was a legitimate connection between canine social behavior and wolves thanks to a little thing called evolution. Stiles had learned that in biology or somewhere, maybe when he went through that phase nobody was allowed to talk about where all his t-shirts had to have tie-dyed backgrounds and big wolf heads on them and his dad was probably thinking  _Why couldn't I just have a normal kid who likes baseball and fart jokes?_

Well, Dad, Stiles thought, you got one wish. I  _do_ like fart jokes. 

But that wasn't--he was getting distracted. The point  _was,_ The Derek Hale Alpha Wolf Creepy Eyeball Glowering From Behind Some Bushes Act had to go. There were positive reinforcement methods and Stiles figured, why not, he was probably going to die from the stress of the situation anyway--but going to scratch Derek behind the ears almost got his hand bitten off, and when he put some salami in his pocket all the neighborhood dogs started following him around while Derek was, guess what, still following Scott. 

'Stiles,' Scott said. 'What is going  _on_ ?'

'Oh,' Stiles replied. 'No, that's. That's a real salami in my pocket, I'm not just happy to see you. I mean, I  _am_ happy to see you, of course I'm happy to, but-- That's  _actually_ a-- You know what, I'm gonna go. Now. Bye. Later.'

Nothing was working. Stiles couldn't beat the system. He never had with public education, either, so why had he  _ever_ thought it was going to work for him now? 

'Soooo,' Stiles said, scuffing his sneaker heel on the floor.

On the other side of the couch, Derek said nothing.

But his eyes were--of course--intense. Like, _really_ intense. The pages Stiles had printed out said to 'assert dominance' through 'visual connections,' which Stiles figured meant  _be even more intense than crazy eyes_  and also  _don't let the abyss stare back into you_.Not that Stiles could hope to do that without literally lighting his eyes  _on fire_ , but he did his best.

And it  _so_ wasn't working.

Derek was starting to growl or put his hackles up or assert dominance in his own way, which would probably culminate in Stiles getting his head all Exorcist-backwards-ified before he could say  _that's a real salami in my pocket, I'm serious, just check, you can eat it yourself if you want._ And Stiles had to do something, something fast, something smart--smarter than usual, which wouldn't have been hard for other people--and animal instinct, self-preservation, survival of the fittest, just...

It just took over. 

Tummy rubs. It was the only out. Stiles braced himself for the snarl and the wolf-stuff and the sideburns and the pointy teeth--not fangs, vampires had fangs, these weren't vampies,  _that'd be just too weird_ \--but nothing happened. Derek's muscles twitched. His t-shirt rode up. And suddenly, without any warning, his face did something  _even weirder_ than getting all wolfed. 

_He smiled._

'Whoa,' Stiles said.

'You stop, you're dead,' Derek replied, somewhere deeper than a literal wolf growl. 

It didn't have the same effect when his eyes were closed, though. One small tummy-rub for wolfkind, Stiles thought--

One deep kiss for Stilinski. 

' _Whoa_ ,' he said again, but it came out like  _unf._


End file.
